


With Dignity

by Kyluxtrashpit (ApostateRevolutionary)



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (but not for the usual reasons), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Canon-Typical Violence, Force-Feeding, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Suicide Attempt, Torture, some exciting/action-y moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 15:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19428859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateRevolutionary/pseuds/Kyluxtrashpit
Summary: When Hux is captured by the Resistance, he vows to do whatever is necessary to avoid giving away the Order's secrets. Left with no other options, he stops eating and drinking, intending to end himself as a precaution. The Resistance, however, knows how much Hux knows and have no intention of losing him to anything, including himself.





	With Dignity

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of notes on this one: Hux does try to kill himself multiple times, though it is for the purpose of not giving away FO secrets, not because he actually wants to die. It’s a cyanide pill kind of reasoning and one of these methods is self-starvation. So do mind that
> 
> Also, it turns out force-feeding is far more horrific than I thought when I started planning this. I have to give credit to [this piece written in 1914](https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/How_It_Feels_to_Be_Forcibly_Fed) for revealing the process (and I give you the same warning of graphic depictions of torture here as I do for this fic) and providing me with such a vivid and chilling first-hand account to draw from

It shouldn’t have happened. The route had been vetted, the plan looked over by many eyes, including his own. His shuttle should’ve been completely safe and untouched on the journey, the TIEs and the Silencer accompanying it as a precaution. None of them had been prepared for the fleet that attacked, least of all Hux himself.

The mission hadn’t been to destroy them as they’d assumed. No, if it had, they likely would’ve won, but the Resistance had planned something entirely different. It was only when Hux’s shuttle had been rendered immobile by a tractor beam and pulled into the gaping maw of the large ship that spearheaded the effort that he realized what was truly occurring. He could still remember Kylo’s anguished scream in his mind through the Force as he’d been swallowed up.

“Don’t let them take you alive,” Hux had ordered, pulling his blaster out, pushing everything but this moment out of his mind. “Either we fight our way to victory or die in service to the Order.”

The pilot and officers on board had looked at him grimly, all fully accepting that those were the only two options. A jerk, then, indicating a jump to hyperspace in a ship much less advanced than those Hux was used to. That meant rescue would be a long time coming and not something they could rely on as a viable option.

The firefight that ensued when the shuttle doors were pried open was hopeless, he knew, but Hux would not accept his survival as a lost cause. He was willing to die, would much rather do so than betray the Order, but he had so much more to do, so many plans that had yet to come to fruition. He would not surrender until death forced him to.

It quickly became clear they were losing, Hux and the pilot the only ones left as the Resistance advanced, the rest of them dead or bleeding out on the floor of the shuttle. The pilot leaned out from behind their cover and managed to take out two, but then fell to a shot right in the forehead. Hux cursed, furious that he would die as a footnote in history instead of as an article.

He leaned over to grab the fallen pilots blaster and grimaced; this was it, then. He stood, foregoing his cover and strode forward, not even trying to dodge as he fired with both blasters as quickly as his fingers could move. A number of the Resistance fell and he could see the surprise on the face of the others as they took cover. _What?_

The realization came too late: they wanted him alive, wanted the knowledge and secrets in his head. Hux knew they had at least one Force user, someone who could likely do what Kylo did and he could not allow that. He lifted one of the blasters, pointing it at his own head–

A heavy weight hit him, one of the Resistance fighters tackling him to the ground. Hux grunted in pain, dropping both blasters, and slid the hidden knife out of his sleeve, slashing at his attackers face. He tasted blood and wasn’t sure if it was his or that of the person on top of him, struggling to get away before they could take him. The Resistance fighter snarled and grabbed his head, slamming his skull into the ground and causing Hux to see stars. While he was still stunned, it happened again, and then everything went dark.

* * *

Hux paced in his cell, a small, bright, cramped thing. This had been the plan all along, he ascertained. A near suicide mission intended to capture him, who they insisted on calling ‘Starkiller’, so that they could extract everything he knew. Which, unfortunately, was a lot. He doubted there was anyone in the Order, even Snoke himself, who had as much information as Hux did when it came to technologies, plans, and troop movements. If they succeeded, it could turn the tide of the war, much like the thought of that turned Hux’s stomach.

They’d smacked him around a little before trapping him in here, a bright room where the lights never turned off, as far as he could tell, and padded walls to keep him from cracking his skull open on a harsh surface. It seemed the Resistance had done their homework; the first thing he’d looked for was a way to escape, the second a weapon, and the third a way to ensure his secrets died with him. He’d found none of the above.

His head ached, a sharp pain at the back, where his hair was matted with some blood, likely from when he’d been knocked unconscious, and spreading out into the rest of his skull. More than anything, though, Hux was angry, both that something was missed that allowed this to happen in the first place and that he hadn’t acted quicker in the shuttle. His officers were dead and here he was, about to potentially be forced to give up all of the Order’s secrets. He wanted to hit something and then vomit.

They left him to stew for a while before roughly hauling him out, slapping cuffs on his wrists as if they didn’t have half a dozen soldiers escorting him. Yes, he was dangerous, but he wasn’t stupid enough to try with those odds. They took him into an interrogation cell and, to Hux’s shock, plunked him in front of another regular-looking solider who was most certainly not the Force-sensitive girl who’d carved up Kylo’s face and helped destroy his superweapon.

The soldier started questioning him and Hux remained mute, giving no reaction at all while inwardly he waited, dreading the moment they’d bring him to the one who could rip his mind apart and siphon out all of his secrets at will and leave him nothing but a gibbering mess, but they never did. His interrogator was getting more annoyed, he could tell, but he stayed stoic and unmoving. He pictured himself as a black hole, words going in like light, nothing coming out.

He was slapped across the face, then, his head turned by the force of the blow. He looked up at his captor and spat in her face, satisfied by the cry of disgust and outrage. He was hit again, but it was worth it. Shortly after, again to Hux’s absolute shock, he was returned to his cell. Seriously, they called that an interrogation? He could give them so many pointers, if he wanted to.

Then again, perhaps they were warming him up before the girl took over. Cold dread washed through Hux’s stomach at the thought; no matter how long he held out, eventually that would happen. It had to; the Resistance may be a collective of fools, but even they knew that certain things had to be done, when necessity demanded it. Their weakness of being soft would run out eventually and Hux would have no defence against such an assault.

There was no way around it; he couldn’t let his secrets fall into their hands. He had to protect the Order above all else, even if he didn’t know how he was going to do so just yet. It was a bitter pill to swallow that this was how he had to die, as a POW in a Resistance cell, but Hux would have to find a way.

His thoughts were interrupted by a slot in the door of his cell opening, a tray with water, some sort of soup, and a stale bit of bread sliding in before it closed. Hux stared at the tray for a moment and then he knew what he had to do. He didn’t like it, and he knew Kylo would like it even less if he knew, but he’d have to understand that this was the only way. It at least gave Hux the choice to die with dignity rather than be forced onto the mercy of the Resistance. With that decided, he turned his back to the tray, rolling over and trying to get some sleep before his the Resistance came for him again.

* * *

Hux stared at the latest tray to slide into his cell. His captors knew he wasn’t eating or drinking, they had to, given that they always took the full trays away after a time. He wanted to, oh _stars_ , how he wanted to, but he would hold out. His stomach ached and his throat burned, but Hux would not give in. He had more self-control than that.

By his count, it had likely been about two cycles since his capture. The human body could only live for about three before death would take over, so he was nearly there. His head spun whenever he moved and his mouth was drier than he ever thought possible. Hux took comfort in the fact that he would not be the reason that the First Order failed. They still hadn’t brought in the girl yet, so he had to make sure he died before they did or else all would be lost.

His captors returned, then, the one at the front frowning at the full tray and then at him. Hux knew he no longer cut the figure of a General, his body so depleted by lack of water and food, but there was dignity in this, too. The Resistance would never break him and he wanted them to know it.

The captor at the front sighed, then gestured to the others. “Come on, he’s still doing it.”

He was used to this by now, being lifted by several Resistance fighters, though Hux could barely support his own weight by now. His head spun and his now temperamental heart rate jumped as they half-dragged him down the hall, taking him down the usual route until they kept going straight instead of turning into the interrogation room. Hux struggled weakly as he realized they were going somewhere else, somewhere that surely held some unknown horror.

Was this it? Were they finally taking him to the Jedi to rend his mind and make all of this for nothing? Hux’s head swam as he tried to get free, all the while knowing he was too weak to do so. For fuck’s sake, he could barely stand.

When they finally reached the fateful door and it opened before him, Hux saw it was a small medical bay. Equal amounts of relief and dread mixed within him; on the one hand, the Jedi was not here. On the other, though, they clearly weren’t going to let him die as he’d intended.

Before he could think anything further, the sentients holding him lifted him up and slammed him onto the table. Hux gasped, the wind knocked out of him, and then so many pairs of hands were buckling straps to hold him down, binding him all the way up his legs and torso to his head. He struggled, even with so little strength, despite knowing it was futile. He couldn’t even turn his head, his skull pinned to the bed like the rest of him.

What must have been a medical officer came into view, then, hovering over him. “We’re not going to let you die, Starkiller. You’re going to give us what we want sooner or later.”

Hux sneered. “You’re wrong.”

The medic shook his head. “Believe that if you want to. Now, this is happening whether you like it or not. I suggest you let it happen or it’ll be that much worse for you.”

Hux said nothing more as the medic turned away and returned with some sort of bottle in hand. What smelled like antiseptic was sprayed into his nostrils and Hux’s eyes watered at the way it burned his throat as it slid down, but he remained silent, fuming. The Resistance were determined to take everything from him, his secrets, his choice, his dignity.

The tube was shoved up his nose with no ceremony and Hux, damn it all, wanted to scream, to thrash, to shout out the agony of it. It _hurt_ , it burned, he couldn’t breathe. He tried to thrash again but failed, the straps holding him too tight to move. His lungs ached with lack of air and he almost took it as a blessing that perhaps this would kill him after all, suffocating on the tube they intended to use to save themselves by saving his life.

But then the tube hit bottom and suddenly he could breathe again, sucking in a heaving breath, his body shuddering against its bonds. His face was wet, Hux realized, the tears an involuntary physical reaction rather than an emotional one. Still, it chafed at him that they were seeing him like this, the captors who’d carried him here looking on along with the medic.

He could just see out of the corner of his eye the medic adjusting the bag hanging next to the table he was strapped to. The liquid in it looked a lot like milk, he thought, yet milk had never looked so insidious before as the medic opened the valve that would allow it to slide down the tube into his stomach. He could just barely see it, watch with growing dread and fury as the liquid approached slower than he’d expected.

It was cold. That was the first thing he noticed, the chill of it as it entered through his nose then continued down his throat. He could not feel it beyond the chill spreading down his spine into his gut and it was then he knew the liquid was in his stomach, no matter what he wished.

Hux felt utterly helpless, something he hadn’t felt in many years. He’d changed the galaxy, left a gaping void in the stars in the shape of the Hosnian system – as they so loved to remind him – and yet here he was, unable to prevent this violation of his wishes, his control over a basic bodily function seized from him. After working so hard and climbing so high, this was how he’d ended up. The humiliation of it was worse than all of the pain of it combined.

A few more tears slid from his eyes and Hux hoped they were assumed to be from the physical discomfort. The Resistance did not mock him, just watched with hard, unsympathetic eyes as the emptiness in his stomach filled, the hunger and thirst slowly waning as his body was fed against his will. He didn’t want their sympathy, was glad not to have it, but would have appreciated not being watched more.

It went on for much longer than he thought possible, the slow slide of the liquid down, down, down into him. It must not have been milk, he thought deliriously, but something thicker, some sort of nutrient sludge. The thought made him want to gag, but his body wouldn’t even allow him that.

The torture continued until the bag was finally, blessedly empty and Hux assumed he’d be released, but the Resistance just continued to watch him, unmoving. He shifted the small amount that he was allowed, wanting nothing more than to be taken back to his cell so he could lick his wounds in peace. They denied him even that as they watched and Hux almost respected them for it, for the callousness they employed here.

It was only after they finally freed him, some time after the feeding had finished, that he realized why they’d taken so long: it was to keep him from vomiting the slop back up, too much of it absorbed into his bloodstream by then for it to do any good. Hux wasn’t sure if he’d ever been so exhausted, somehow more so after the feeding than before, when he’d been so depleted.

They took him back to the interrogation room, still without the girl, as if thinking he’d give in now that his plans had been foiled, but Hux just sat there, unaffected, as he usually did. He refused to give them even a word, no matter how much his interrogator demanded him to with words or the occasional slap. Once frustrated enough by his continued lack of response, she finally had him taken back to his cell, Hux’s body limp in the grip of his captors.

It was only when his door shut and he was alone in that bright, white room that Hux allowed himself to curl up into a ball while lying on his side, back to the door. He bit his lip to keep himself under control as a few tears escaped, the ticklish feeling of them on his cheeks only making him feel more ashamed. The humiliation, the violation – it was intolerable. He almost wanted to take back all of his silent insults about how soft the Resistance was. That was somehow more horrific than anything he had endured or been trained to do so. He knew it was weak of him to wish for comfort, to imagine strong arms and that singular scent of ozone and sweat and soft, dark curls to hide his face in, but Hux couldn’t deny himself that small indulgence when it was all he could get.

After all he’d been through, though, Hux was tired, so profoundly tired, and he drifted off with those thoughts in his mind despite his discomfort and the bright lights. He awoke blearily only when he heard the slot slide open again, another meal being delivered to him. He sat up a little, narrowing his eyes and glaring at it. It was both food and an ultimatum: feed yourself or we’ll do it for you.

Despite the horror of it, how awful it had been and how much Hux never wanted to experience that again, the thought of giving in felt worse. It would be a concession, an admission that something the Resistance had done to him had had the desired effect. Torture aside, Hux could not allow that, so he turned over, ignoring the meal and resolving to sleep some more until they brought him out for more useless questioning.

* * *

It was his third visit to medical since he’d been captured. Still, the girl had not been brought in, to Hux’s immense confusion, but he also knew that wasn’t something he should be complaining about. It simply didn’t make sense; the first thing they did after traditional methods failed was bring in Kylo, why would the Resistance not do the same when they also had access to such power?

But more time was good, the longer it took them to use her, the less relevant his information become. A lot of it wasn’t time dependent simply because of how much he knew, but some was. Perhaps the Order still had a chance even if the Resistance kept bringing Hux back from the brink of his refusal to eat or drink. It never got easier to endure, though, and he couldn’t help but struggle uselessly as they carried him to the small medical room.

They lifted him up, as per usual, and just as they slammed him down again he heard it, a whisper in his mind: _I’m here_.

Then the ship rocked, the sound of an explosion distant but unmistakeable. The sentients holding him were forced to let go by the violent jerk of the ship and Hux didn’t hesitate. His body was weak from thirst and hunger, but his mind, even nearly delirious as it was, knew what to do. He jumped up from the table, kicking the first Resistance member he saw and throwing them off balance.

There was a tray with instruments on the counter and he grabbed the first he saw, fortunately a scalpel. It wasn’t much, but Hux was far deadlier armed than not. The Resistance members, now recovered, watched him warily before closing in together in a tight half-circle, trapping him against the counter. Hux glanced between them, trying to find a weakness, and then the ship rocked again, throwing all but him off balance, thanks to the counter steadying him.

Hux didn’t wait. He dashed around them for the door, only to be stopped by the medic blocking him. There was fear in his eyes, though, the knowledge that Hux, despite his physical state, was a soldier in every meaning of the word and he was not. Hux took the offered advantage and rushed forward, colliding with the medic and using the proximity to slit his throat. Blood coated his filthy uniform and Hux revelled in it, finally getting some revenge for the horror this man had inflicted on him. Hux wished he could’ve drawn it out, tortured the medic as he had been tortured, but there wasn’t time.

He ran, though he stumbled as his head still spun and his body didn’t fully obey him, adrenalin being the only thing keeping him going. Footsteps followed him, his Resistance captors clearly having recovered. They were advancing, Hux could hear it, but he kept going, his legs and lungs burning with the effort of moving forward.

More footsteps, from ahead and around a corner this time, and Hux faltered, unsure who was on the other side. He was either saved or trapped, but at least the unknown offered the possibility of rescue, so he kept moving, propelled faster when he felt a hand brush the back of his tunic. The footsteps ahead were getting closer and stars, kriff, fuck, all the curses in the galaxy, did he hope they were Stormtroopers.

White armour appeared from around the corner and Hux almost laughed with relief. The Stormtroopers started visibly despite the helmets as they noticed Hux running towards them. Blaster fire rang out immediately, the red beams passing by Hux and hitting the Resistance members behind him, if the groans of pain and thumps of bodies hitting the ground were any indication.

Finally allowing himself to stop, safe for the moment, Hux leaned against the wall of the corridor, panting and vision blurred. He was vaguely aware of more Stormtroopers coming around the corner, one group heading down the path he’d come while another stayed with him, observing. Hux had never thought a rescue was possible, never allowed himself to hope for it, and yet it had come for him anyway.

“Sir,” one of the Stormtroopers acknowledged, “we’ve nearly cleared the ship. We’ll escort you out. Lord Ren will be with us shortly.”

Hux almost laughed again, delirious, but followed the Stormtroopers, who said nothing about his slow pace or the way he had to use the side of the corridor for support. He was so dizzy and so exhausted and he desperately hoped someone could get him some water once they made it to the ship they’d be escaping in. At least they’d arrived before he had to go through the horrific experience of being forcibly fed again.

Once at the shuttles the Order had brought, Hux sat on a crate near the Upsilon and ordered the nearest Stormtrooper to bring him water. He wanted food as well, but that was a slightly less pressing need and also less likely to kill him. They brought him a bottle from the closest ship and Hux parted his aching lips, drinking it so fast he almost wanted to throw up.

A second, slower bottle later, Hux felt marginally more human, his hunger also quieted for the moment by all the liquid in his stomach. He desperately wanted to leave, but he also was pleased by the knowledge that his troops were taking their time, making sure every miserable being on this ship had either been killed or captured. The urge to simply lie down on the ground and go to sleep was strong, but Hux fought it back, not wanting to show that much weakness in front of his troops.

More Stormtroopers came pouring into the hanger and behind them followed a swath of black. Hux’s heart jumped in his chest; he’d never been so happy to see that damnable mask. Kylo spotted him too, his whole body stilling for a fraction of a second before he changed direction and strode directly towards Hux. For the first time since this ordeal had begun, Hux let himself be glad his efforts to die had failed.

“General, I see you’ve survived,” Kylo said outloud, while speaking into his mind at the same time: _I was so worried we’d be too late. Are you okay?_

“I did and the Order’s secrets are safe. I was the only survivor and I gave them nothing,” Hux said, forcing himself to stand while thinking back: _I will be, darling. I want to leave this thrice damned place and watch it explode into dust._

There was a noise behind the vocoder that might have been a laugh. _I can do that_.

Hux followed Kylo into the Upsilon as the Stormtroopers arranged themselves into their shuttles. He sat himself in the back, the private area away from the pilots as they took off, the lurch making his stomach churn. Closing his eyes, Hux focused on his breathing, determined not to eject any of the water he’d drank before boarding.

Shortly after he felt his stomach calm itself, Kylo poked his now un-helmeted head into the back of the shuttle. “You said you wanted to see the ship explode?”

Hux couldn’t help a chuckle at that, getting up slowly and following Kylo to the cockpit as he gave the order for all ships to fire at once on the ship. Hux watched with relish as the ship slowly gave in to their attack, the escaping oxygen fuelling the fire until it exploded in a shower of metal and flame. It was glorious and Hux felt a little light-headed from how much satisfaction it gave him.

Once it was done, he returned to the back of the Upsilon for the trip back to the Finalizer with Kylo in tow. He could practically feel the urge to coddle radiating off him and Hux was so tired he just might let Kylo do a bit of coddling. After all he’d been through, Hux knew he wouldn’t have it in him to tell Kylo not to.

So he sat next to Kylo, turning towards and leaning into him with one of those arms he’d dreamed about wrapped around him, that distinctive scent he’d craved filling his nostrils as he buried his face in those soft, dark curls, trying to forget that the last thing in his nose hadn’t been a smell. He knew there’d be an unpleasant medical visit and some rough interviewing to ensure he hadn’t given away any information coming, so he closed his eyes and let himself have this, let Kylo hold him and whisper soothing nonsense directly into his mind as they made their way home.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, if only Hux knew Rey wouldn't actually rip his mind open, but alas
> 
> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://kyluxtrashpit.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/kyluxtrashpit/) too


End file.
